Sunday, June 15, 2008

burning in Memphis

As Sara Groves looks over the past couple of years, she recalls from where she's come and where she is now. From "hugging the wall" to this: "I want the wick to be gone; I want the wax to be gone. I want to burn down to the ground." She wants her kids to see her, not hugging the wall, but running with her head thrown back.

down to the ground, down to the ground.

We're singing songs more lately, ones we wrote well, ones we wrote hesitantly, many that take our listeners and ourselves over and over on our journey. This is what I like about our songs. We don't forget where we've come from--who was there, and who isn't anymore; what stones were thrown, what seeds were planted; what minds were closed, what hearts have since opened.

I hate not feeling completely safe going for a walk in my own neighborhood. I take myself on guilt trips for wanting to go walking in other neighborhoods, ones that are quieter, safer. I am staying with a friend for a few days, and it's a nice break to go outside by myself, on a walk. But the obvious difference is that there aren't as many people outside. I've gone from one extreme to the other--from people sipping their brown-bagged bottles in the noonday sun (day after day after day) to those who are so busy that there isn't time to sit on porches. This is perhaps misjudgement on my part.

But I've decided it is okay not to feel guilty anymore. I just want to go for walks. I am praying for courage to walk in the mornings in my own neighborhood, to begin making Binghampton my home instead of a place where I feel like such an outsider. It's all perception. Other people might perceive me as an outsider, but I want to stop perceiving myself that way. Self-fulfilling prophecy. I don't want to fall victim to it.